A Deadly Study
by portmanroxsmysoxs
Summary: In his seventh year, Draco is perfect. He's beating Hermione Granger's grades into the ground. But every night, he hears her angry sobs outside the dungeon walls. All that's down there is Snape's classroom...BWHAHAHAH DHr, please R&R!
1. The Seventh Year Begins

Title: A Deadly Study (It'll make much more sense in later chapters.)

Disclaimer: I own nothing. HP belongs to the wonderful JK Rowling, bless her.

_Alright, this is the first time in a long while I've posted. It's nice to have a new story. I hope you enjoy it! Read on, brave soldier..._

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"Have a good year, don't get into rubbish. Don't disappoint us, you know, all that," my mother said in a bored manner, waving a ringed hand in my general direction. She picked up a book and tossed it to me, gold bracelets jangling on her scrawny, snow-white wrist. 

I caught it easily and stuffed it into the pack resting on my shoulder, knowing I should not let it be seen. It was another dark book that needed to be transported to Snape's lab in the dank dungeons of Hogwarts.

I took a step onto the train, looking behind me. Students still filled the area, making hoards of noise. I dreaded all of them. "Goodbye, mother," I bid her cordially.

"Yes, yes, just get on the train," mother said, rolling her piercing eyes at me. She turned, fancy robes billowing in the smoky wind of the platform. "I'll see you at the Winter Holidays." She kept walking until she melted into the numerous heads of the crowd.

That was my mother, so dramatic and emotional when it came to goodbyes of the longest kind. I shrugged, knowing her usual routine, and wandered leisurely through the corridor of the familiar train. Disgusting, grimy first- and second-year faces watched me carefully from behind half-closed compartment doors. I turned and continued my stalk down the hallway.

I reached the middle of the train and found Crabbe sitting in an otherwise empty compartment. Goyle, the great lug, was nowhere in sight. I hadn't seen him all summer, but by no means missed him. I stepped inside, making noise so Crabbe would tear his bulbous eyes from the window.

"Draco," he grunted, sitting up straighter. He was already in his robes, as worn as they may be, and smoothed them down when I sat across from him. Crabbe looked at me cautiously, "Nice to see you again. It's been a long time."

I nodded curtly, "Yes, it has. It's nice to see you're well." I placed my pack close to me, just so it was in arm's length. Didn't want anyone stealing it, you see.

Crabbe returned my nod. "I've sent you a few letters this summer." He frowned and fidgeted in his seat. "They always returned without a response." He looked at me squarely. "Why, exactly, is that?"

I rolled my jaw. "Not," I started coolly, "that it's any of your business, I was studying a particular art," I raised an eyebrows meaningfully, hoping that the git would understand it, "at a certain headquarters with my father. I instructed the housemaids to send all my letters back to their senders. I was too occupied with my advanced studies to respond to all the mail."

"Ah," Crabbe dipped his head, looking at his massive hands. "I suppose you've had a certain mark placed on you as well?"

"No," I said, sneering angrily. "Not until next summer. I'll be finished with Hogwarts by then, this being our seventh year and all. We can't risk having any of the teachers stumbling upon it during class. Dumbledore's lackeys would turn us to the dementors in a heartbeat."

"Yes," my companion agreed stupidly, "I suppose they would." He rubbed his forearm thoughtfully, "Though I can wait," he assured me.

"Why would you want to?" I asked, staring questioningly.

"Don't you think it'll be dreadfully painful?"

I nodded, "But well worth it."

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_Well, I know it's short, but bear with me. It's just the introduction. The second chapter will be much longer, I promise! Please no flames, my fragile ego can't bear them._

_Yours awesomely,_ Katie.


	2. A Wonderful Revelation

Disclaimer: I own nothing, except my obsession with Ron Weasley. JK Rowling gets all the credit.

_Okay, this next chapter is set in early or mid October. The real plot comes in the later months of the school year, so I skipped over September and the Sorting Ceremony and such. Enjoy, reader of mine..._

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The following months went gradually. Classes started, fall began, and I found that the year was passing painfully slow. Leaves weren't falling fast enough for my liking. Sure, all of my grades were superb and my social life complete, but I was aching to see the outside world again. I already knew my fate with Voldemort and was eagerly awaiting it. It was an honour. Classes - even Advanced Potions - became monotonous and obsolete. 

My lackluster effort was brought to my attention suddenly one morning in the dungeons of the castle.

"Mister Malfoy," a cold voice drawled at me as I sat doodling in the margins of my notes. "Will you please direct your attention to the front of the class when you're finished with your masterpiece? As you know, I'm not one to stand in the way of art, but sometimes, when students want to learn something, they regard a professional."

Professor Snape was never one for subtly.

The disposition in his comment was also aided by the fact Snape harbored a slight hatred of me. Always had, really. I know what you're thinking: how could he hate such a brilliant student of his own house? It was because we knew the boundary between us.

He was below me in the chain leading up to Voldemort. My father and I held a much better position than he in the Lord's eye. I was continually moving upwards while Snape stayed at the lower rungs, glowering in the dregs of my glory.

"I apologize, Professor, from extracting my attention of your lesson," I answered sardonically. Nevertheless, I set down my quill and waited patiently for him to continue. He would launch into a tirade, settle down, and go back to his lecture soon. Merlin knows I had heard enough of him to know his routine.

"Why don't you place your focus out your head to the head of the class? I've had enough of your lifeless effort in my class. If you don't watch your step, Mister Malfoy, I'll have you demoted to a much, much simpler Potions." Snape raised a greasy eyebrow at me, challenging me.

I bit my lip at him. "Yes sir," I hissed, clutching a fist under the table.

The dense, greasy man at the head of the dank room lowered his black brow and turned his back on me and the rest of the Slytherin class. No one dared even a snigger in my direction. I kept a straight, dry face as I copied down the recipe on the board. Abhorrence seared through my veins with each scratch of quill against paper.

"Even I know to pay attention in the dungeons, Malfoy," a confident, loathing voice rang out behind me when class was dismissed.

I turned sharply, sending the material of my pressed, black robes scattering around my ankles. Harry Potter came jauntily walking up to me, a smirk on his scarred head. He had grown over the summer months, so we stood at the same height. His scar was the same, I'm happy to report. Weasley was behind him and towered over us all, the great, awkward brute. His hair had grown to his shoulders, making him look a hippie. Suiting, I thought. The trio was not complete, I noticed, as the mousy know-it-all was missing.

"Dreaming of Pansy?" Potter laughed softly, swaying from side to side. "Or is it Blaise now? I've noticed he's gone."

The giant Weasley laughed hysterically at this, slapping his master on the shoulder with congratulations.

After seven years of being in the same school, I detested Harry Potter the most of all the student body. Each year my repugnance of Potter Boy Wonder increased ten fold. He continued to excel far further than I did at Quidditch and went out of his way to show me that at each and every game. Weasley, his personal whipping boy, spared no expense to show me that, not only we were both of pure blood, that he was much more powerful than I and overtook me in fights much more often than in younger years.

I grimaced and shot back, "Go back to your followers, Pothead, if that's the best you've got. Perhaps they've got some suggestions." It wasn't my best retort, but it would suffice for the moment. It struck me then, that I hadn't gotten the homework off the board and needed it so that monkey would stay off my back.

I strode off for Snape's classroom once more. Scarhead obviously wasn't about to let bygones be bygones when he retorted to my back, "Running away with your tail between your legs again, Malfoy? Typical." The weasel laughed.

I didn't.

"Shove it up your ass," I called, turning a deaf ear. I walked into the clammy room, infuriated. I clenched my fists again and resisted the tempting urge to chase the damn boy down and beat him until he couldn't lift a perfect finger. Don't even get me started on what I'd do to that buffoon sidekick.

"Miss Granger, I expect you in this classroom everyday after school, you know that," I heard a voice growl from the corner of the classroom.

Not wanting to disturb anything to do with the punishment of beaver-toothed Granger, I slid into a dark crook of the room and delighted in the thought of Snape's fury being unleashed on Miss Perfect. At last, I reveled; she gets what's been coming to her since she was born.

"I'm sorry, Professor," I heard a soft, feminine voice plead. "There was a test in Transfiguration and I fell asleep in the Library last night studying."

"I did not ask for excuses," Snape spat loathingly. "We agreed at the beginning of the year that you, in order to keep your grades up, would have to visit me every night. You failed to keep up your end of the deal and now your scores are going to suffer plenty. I promise you that."

I smirked to myself, basking in my good fortune. I wanted to know more, dig deeper in Hermione's bad fate. I had no idea what she was doing every night in Snape's room, but I healthily guessed that it was because perhaps she was more a dunce faking her intellect than an actual genius.

"Please," I heard her voice whimper after a silence. "I'll come tonight, I promise."

There was a loud smack and a thump and a small cry. "I did not make a deal just to bargain on the rules of it later. My laws are non-negotiable, you pathetic, silly girl."

Though I could not see the actual deed being done, I had known what he had done by the sounds. My smile looped off to the side, a bit put off, but I was pleased none the less. Granger was going to fail. I know I sound childish, but for the past seven years she had conquered me in everything academic. Merlin knows I had gotten enough crap and beatings from my father about it.

"Alright," I faintly heard Granger whisper.

"Then get up off the floor and go to your next class," Snape told her cruelly.

Before she had a chance to say anything, I slipped from my cranny in the wall next to the bookcase and ran into the stream of people in the hallway. Snape, of all people, had just made my day. I could face the consequences of not having my homework tomorrow with a smirk.

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NOTE! _Alright, the writing from this whole piece is inspired from Great Expectations, a book we have to read in Language Arts this month. I don't know, I was in a very depressing mood when I wrote it. And the fact that it was three o'clock in the morning when I finished it. Hee hee._

_Trapped-in-a-dream: Thanks for being my first reviewer for the story! You rock._

_Yours Awesomely,_ Katie


	3. Midnight Meetings

_Disclaimer: I own nothing but my crazy mind. JK Rowling owns the whole 'HP' thing._

_Final exams week is FINALLY OVER! Four straight days of test taking are over and I'm so happy! I hope I didn't fail anything.Anyway, here's chapter three._

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I lay awake, pondering in my bed, at midnight that night. The lights had been blown out and Crabbe and Goyle were snoring in the beds scattered across the room. I don't know what was keeping my eyes open at that hour. I needed all the sleep I could get. 

Leaning against the stone wall, I played with my fingers in the dark. I was dreadfully bored. I rustled around in my sheets, going crazy within the confines of my own mind. My ear picked up something soft, though. It was a whimpering of sorts. Like someone crying.

Squinting, I looked about. No one turned or tossed in their sleep. My dorm mates were unmoving and unconscious. The doglike yips weren't coming from them, thankfully. I shrugged the noise off, guessing it was the pipes of a room upstairs. I laid my head on my pillow once again and shut my eyes.

The noises didn't stop. In fact, they became louder, faded away, and came back, much to my annoyance, mind you. Although I was glad to have an excuse to be awake, the noises were ringing through my head now. I grumbled and climbed out of bed, determined to find the source of the disturbance. I scratched my head, stumbling through the blackness of my bedroom. I left the room and the common room and treaded out into the hallway that shared a wall with the room I had just been in.

Much to my luck, I came upon the Granger girl. I could just make her out in the dimly-lit corridor. She was slumped against my wall, crying into her small hands.

"Granger, you git," I mumbled groggily, coming into clear view, "what in cricket's name are you doing here?" I glared down at her, expecting an answer.

She visibly shook and clambered messily to her feet. Hermione swiped a hand across her red, swollen face and started walking towards the staircase leading to the ground floor. "Nothing," she grumbled on her way, brushing past me gruffly.

"Tsk, tsk," I clucked, "it's after hours, Head Girl, why are you breaking rules?" I grinned wickedly, watching her disappear into the darkness. I truly enjoyed rubbing her worst qualities into her face. I mean, I was still a bit ticked that I was passed over for the position of Head Boy and the title ended up going to Weasel of all the idiots in the world. The Heads aren't supposed to do anything contraband.

Granger was in for it.

I could faintly hear her call, "Shove it," in my direction, but decided it was just the wind. I treaded back to my room and crawled underneath my warm blankets.

Needless to say, I slept wonderfully after that.

I saw Granger later that day in class. She looked the same as she did when she had been crying. Frizzy, bushy hair that still had yet to tame itself, dull blue eyes, rumpled robes, and a red, swollen face. Honestly, if she couldn't control herself, she shouldn't have been in classes at all.

She stared at her hands and notes and fidgeted with her things, not paying any of her attention to Snape, who was boring holes in her forehead with the most utter dislike. He cracked his knuckles and turned away without a word. Why didn't he call on the mouse when she wasn't paying attention, but he did me? I knew I had a better grade than her for the first time in seven years, so why was she getting away with it?

The little suck-up.

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A few days later, I found that every night the crying came and went. The Granger girl must've really screwed herself over with Professor Snape to get herself detention for that long. I smiled all the while, knowing she was being a baby. Only children cried when they were punished. 

I sat in Transfiguration, watching McGonagall going on and on about transforming a stupid teacup into an even stupider cat. Sunshine shone through the large, gothic windows. The rays created a very sleepy aura throughout the classroom. I was one of the many that fell under its spell. With both my elbows on the table, holding my head up with my hands, I sighed loud enough to attract unwanted attention.

Potter Boy Wonder sat in the seat ahead of me and turned around. He glared silently. I made a face back and motioned with my hand for him to turn around and pay attention to himself. That's the only thing he was really good at in the first place.

Though it was late October, the weather was still nice enough to leave the windows open. Particularly strong winds were blowing today and caused numerous papers to fly about the room. That's why; just as I was closing my eyes, something hit me smack in the face.

Abruptly, I looked about for the perpetrator. Instead, I found that a piece of parchment had drifted from my nose onto the table in front of me. I picked it up, surveyed the blankness of the sheet, and peered around. Granger sat at the table beside me, boring worried holes into my forehead.

"Give that to me," she hissed venomously.

"What," I asked, waving the paper. "This?"

She bobbed her frizzy head. "Yes, give it to me now."

I turned the parchment over, grinning wildly. "Finders keepers," I murmured in response. "Besides, you never said please." On the underside, I found a very fancy font in a standard, formal ink. I had a letter that looked exactly like it. A grade sheet.

The only difference was my paper had the highest marks a student could have - Outstandings, all of them. Hermione, on the other hand, had 'Acceptable' scrawled all the way down her sheet. I raised an eyebrow. Could it be? The Golden Girl? Just acceptable? Just human?

"Nice going," I whispered impiously.

While I reveled in my new found glory, an inkling started buzzing in the back of my mind. How, exactly, could this happen? Hermione Granger was every teacher's best dream. Now, here she sat beside me, barely passing? Even I knew she wasn't that much of an idiot. I figured she was lowering her standards for the Weasel brute. Half the school knew Weasel King had been the object of her affections ever since fourth year. This just proved that if a person is foolish enough, they'll do anything for love.

What bullocks.

Before I even managed a laugh, the parchment was snatched out of my hands. "Don't you ever look at my things again," Beaver-teeth hissed again. She was blushing furiously, busying herself with organizing her folders. She squirmed underneath my gaze, trying to avoid my questioning eyes.

I managed a quick peek at her arm. There was a hideous black and green bruise covering the upper part of her forearm. I opened my mouth to call it to attention, but Granger must've noticed my staring and harshly shoved the material of her robe over the length of her exposed flesh.

"Mr. Malfoy," a prim voice rang out. "Please, divert your attention up here, if you can manage."

"Yes, Professor McGonagall," I sighed.

I heard the cries outside my bedroom walls that night. It had fallen into a regular routine. By that night, I hardly opened a lid. It still disturbed me the fact that she was crying, but I found it so unimportant I would not rise from my bed. What sort of trouble could she be enduring anyway? She missed an extra credit point?

* * *

_Thanks so much to: trapped-in-a-dream, The Lady of the 4leafed Clover, the fallen always falls, Monday mornings, and Lily. You guys are great reviewers!_

_I'm sorry, but I can't tell you what's going on with Hermione! It's coming in later chapters. I have it all planned out. Suspensful, no? Hee hee hee._

_Yours awesomely,_ Katie


	4. A Rumor

_Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns everything, I own my insanity...at times_

_Well, I finally have Chapter Four ready for you guys after a week! It's been an easy week, though, after exams and all. We got our grades back on Friday, and my friend David had all A's on his sheet (curse him!). He threw it up in the air joyously and then it came flying back down and hit him in the eye. It sliced open his cornea! Ha! Karma, David, karma!But you don't want to hear about that stuff, now do you? Here's Chapter Four..._

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"So," a drawling feminine voice whispered in my ear at breakfast one morning. A hand snarled around my shoulder, pointed ruby nails digging into my flesh. Dirty golden hair splayed across my robes, heavy with gel and perfume. "How's your day going, Draco?" The voice was sickly sweet. 

Pansy Parkinson, of course.

She slid into the seat beside me, smoothing out her robes and skirt. She batted her mascara-caked eyelashes in my direction. Beaming up at me with straight, pearly white teeth, Pansy said, "Hmmmm? How is it?"

I cleared my throat and set down my goblet. "Its morning, Pansy," I informed her. "The day has just begun. I'd like to enjoy it." I bowed my head and mumbled so she wouldn't hear, "So leave."

A long, pointed finger scratched my forehead, drawing back a tendril of white hair. "I simply adore," she gushed passionately, "your fabulous hair, Draco." She held another lock prisoner, rubbing it between her thumb and forefinger.

I jerked my head back, snarling slightly. Though Pansy was another Slytherin, she was still an annoying gnat that never left a person alone until they went insane. I'd seen it happen all too many times. Pansy meets boy. Pansy falls in love with boy. Pansy stalks boy. Boy jumps off Astronomy Tower.

Pansy sighed, let my hair go, and turned back to her own plate briskly. She picked up a fork and had a bit of food close to her mouth before she told me, "Oh. I heard something about the Head Girl today. Very interesting, thought I might tell you."

Shrugging, I mumbled something I couldn't even comprehend. What did I care?

After a few seconds of silence, Pansy turned to me in a huff. "Don't you want to hear what I have to say?" she demanded. She let her cutlery drop to her plate with a clank, as if astonished that her news didn't spark any interest in my mind. To her, anything that was gossip was top priority.

"No," I shook my head. "I really don't." I had no problem with being rude; I knew Pansy wouldn't take any real offense. She had learned to live with my spitefulness over the years and now completely disregarded half the things I said.

"Well," Pansy purred, "I guess I'll tell you anyway."

"Go on," I sighed, "do tell."

Her eyes lit up instantly and she lunged into her riveting tale. "Alright," Pansy began, sucking in a great breath. "So, I heard from Emily - she shares the dorm room with me, you know - that Hermione Granger no longer holds the title of Head Girl!" she practically squealed with delight. "No more bushy-haired snobs running the place! Isn't that wonderful?" Pansy clutched hold of my arm and squeezed tight.

Needless to say, I was abruptly startled. "Really?" I managed coolly after a while. "Granger is gone? Why?" Why would the golden girl leave such an important post? The twit was probably too busy following Weasel King around, begging for him to acknowledge her.

Pansy was practically shining from her recognition. She bounced around in her place sitting next to me, tucking her hair compulsively behind her ears. "I'll tell you!" she exclaimed. Leaning back in her seat, Pansy cracked her knuckles. "It all began," she recited as if she were reading a book, "When the midnight shift two nights ago was left open. The Granger girl was supposed to be patrolling the fourth floor corridors, but never showed up."

"Wasn't that the night that Reed and Ionis ambushed those Hufflepuffs in the trophy room?" I interjected interestedly. I had heard the plan being talked about in hushed breaths several times before - a raid on some first years to keep them from getting too cocky. I set my cutlery down by my plate and leaned in to listen attentively.

Pansy's head bobbed so much I thought it would fall off. "Yes!" she giggled, wrapping her silky hands tighter around my bicep. "No one was there to stop them, and Headmaster Dumbledore called Granger on it last night. Word from Emily says that he reviewed her portfolio and decided it would be better to elect another Head to take her place! Turns out Granger wasn't up to her regular standards - not giving detentions and taking away house points and such. A regular prick, she was. Glad she's gone!"

It was a large amount to comprehend. I knew there was something wrong. This wasn't Hermione Granger. Hermione Granger received the best grades, was always on her top game patrolling the hallways, and never, I mean never, dismissed the opportunity to take down someone's name for detention. It was practically her life mission to rid the whole school of scum. I had been under her wrath before, I should know.

"Who's replacing her?" I asked, genuinely surprised.

Pansy shrugged, "Don't know. Probably some Gryffindor…again."

I clicked my tongue and turned back to my breakfast. So Pansy was good for something after all, I found. Looking across the Great Hall, I found that Granger - or her lackeys - where at their regular place at the Gryffindor table. So, I took things into action by shoving my plate aside, rising, and strutting briskly out of the hallway.

I wanted to see if the rumor was true. If Hermione Granger was a failure.

Oh, how I relished the thought.

I came upon a desolate hallway. Normally, I would've walked right past it, but I heard tremendous sobs resonating from a classroom in the distance. Everywhere I went, I seemed to attract sadness. Turning halfway in mid stride, I saw a door slightly ajar. Behind that, I saw a bundle of flaming red hair.

I had found my suspects.

"I don't understand it," I could hear a person heave. "I deserved that position more than anyone else!" There was a thud and more sobs.

"Hermione," a deep, gentle voice spoke soothingly. "There's no reason to kick anything. You'll get the spot back soon enough."

"No I won't!" I heard Hermione screech quite distinctly. "I'll never get it back! I'm horrible!"

"You're underfed and sleep-deprived, that's all. Dumbledore is just cutting you some slack to catch up on all your work. You know you need the time," I could hear Harry saying firmly.

Well, apparently that didn't go over too well, because the next thing I heard was an eruption. "What I need!" Hermione shrieked, "What I need is Head Girl back! What I need is for that prude Dumbledore to come to his insane senses and realize he'll never be able to replace me! What I need is for you to stop being so damn calm about it!"

Silence reigned for a while, enough to soothe raging tempers and bruised egos. I grinned smugly to myself from my position by the door. A perfect time for an entrance, no?

"Sorry to burst in," I announced loudly, flinging open the door. "But I've just caught wind of the good news." I slammed the door behind me, leaning against the closest wall.

The golden trio gawked openly at me for a while, obviously shocked by the sight of me. What can I say? I have that certain effect on people, what with my witty charm and all.

"Malfoy," Weasley growled, advancing on me. "What do you bloody think you're doing here? This is private." He towered above me, trying to be intimidating. Being in such a good mood, his actions flew right over me.

"Oh," I answered leisurely, "just thought I'd drop in and congratulate Granger over there. Swell job, ex-Head Girl." I clapped my hands slowly, a malicious grin spreading like an ink stain across my face.

Weasley seized me by the collar of my robes, as I expected he would. The brute didn't know self control if it came up and bit him on the ass. I didn't get worked up though, even when my feet left the ground. Potter Boy Wonder would console him when I began to turn blue and I would leave.

"It wasn't my fault!" the shrew wailed.

"Ron, set him down!" Harry shouted over top of her wavering, watery voice.

Ron turned his sluggish head to stare at his partner with disgust and contempt. "You want me to let this bastard get away? Like all the other times? I don't think so." With that, Weasley found it proper of him to slam me against the wall repeatedly, seething. "You don't talk to Hermione like that," he breathed on me. "You don't speak to anyone like that. You are vile, scum of the earth, you black-hearted Death Eater."

"Black-hearted, yes," I choked, not willing to show vulnerability. "But not yet a Death Eater. Get your head on straight, will you?"

My sarcasm earned me another slam against the wall. "Shut up!" Weasel King yelled in my face. I would've suggested a mint or a toothbrush, but I found it not the right time to mention that.

Hermione, who was then sitting on the desk at the head of the classroom, leaped off the desk and ran. She looked like she was going to head butt me, but opted for the door instead. She flung it open, and as she did, I saw her eye. It was dark and swollen. But I only caught a glimpse, and blamed its condition on her crying. She was sprinting down the empty corridor a second later, leaving me, Pothead, and Weasley in the room alone.

Cricket.

Though I don't see the importance of reporting this, they beat me to a pulp afterwards. I was dropped on the ground, insulted, kicked, punched, and had several very uncomfortable curses performed on me. Weasel kept on shouting, while he threw punch after punch, that I stay the hell away from Granger. If I were to touch her, he would rip out a vital intestinal organ and strangle what was left of me with it. Potter warned me he'd come after me again if I were to speak to his precious girlfriend in that manner.

I can't even remember how I found it in myself to drag my being off the floor and back to the Slytherin common rooms. By that time, I had multiple contusions to the head, a black eye, what felt like seven broken bones, and a bum leg.

* * *

_Thanks to all of you who reviewed, it really made my week...acdecnerd, Lilly, the fallen always falls, trapped-in-a-dream, Karana Belle, luckycharms129, Riddleness, anafics, BenjiMaddenFreek, #1 Critic, and The Lady of the 4leafed Clover. You seriuosly rock my world!_

_P.S. You'll find out what's happening with Hermione in either Chapter Five or Six, I promise!_

_Yours awesomely,_ Katie


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